Everything Goes Wrong (Not finished)
by ChaoticEvil
Summary: Jason's best friend's dad just died. This is the last straw. Many people have died in this Age of Dark Wizards. There are currently at least more than 20 Dark Wizards running around right now wreaking havoc. Short chapters, but good plot. Rated T for mild language and character death. Pretty short chapters. This is my first story! Tell me what you think.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Hello.

My name is Frederick.

I am about to die.

My mind scrambles, trying to think of something, anything, that could save me. I run through my mind every spell I have learned. Nothing comes to mind. I haven't learned Portus yet, and there's probably even an anti-phoenix ward, not that I have a phoenix. Then I try to think of anything I could do to get the wand out of his hand. I couldn't kick him fast enough. Even a simple dodge or duck would only delay the inevitable.

Damn.

I'm going to die.

There is nothing to do but watch his face. I am helpless. He could do anything he wants to me at this point. I can hope he's not going to use the Cruciatus curse. But knowing Dark Lords, they don't really kill painlessly very often.

I can't see his eyes. The hood of his black cloak covers all of his face but his crooked smile. His hand isn't even wrinkled. He holds his wand steadily at his side. I assume he has wards, making another reason physical violence could never work.

I turn my head slightly, ever so slightly, to the side. I try not to make it too obvious that I am looking for a way to escape. There isn't a tree within fifty feet. The sun is bright. I can't see it, but I can feel it burning into the back of my neck.

I am not wearing robes. My combed but still curly brown hair is clearly visible. I have a T-shirt and jeans. I am not wearing any shoes. The only thing I have with me is my wand and my...

My map.

I quickly pull out my map. I point at the enlarged figure of my house and say "Teleportus Maximo!"

Or, at least, I begin to say it. I get as far as "max" before the man in front of me says "Avada Kedavra" in less that half a second.

A burst of bright green has hit my chest.

The map does its duty and I am teleported to the front hall of my house.

My wife says, "Well, you're home earl- OH MY GOD!"

I fall to the floor, dead, just as she reaches me.

She cuddles my lifeless body in her arms, sobbing.

My last thought is...Come to think of it, I died before I could think anything.

Dead.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I give all credit for this fic to JK Rowling. I do not intend to intrude upon any copyrights.

A/N: I am ignoring a few rules set up by JKR and creating a few of my own. Just call it artistic license, OK?

Transfiguration classroom; Friday, November 17, 1997; 11:13 AM

Jason sat silently in his seat, resisting the urge to kill something.

His best friend's dad had been murdered. He had been investigating a remote Muggle village where a spellcaster lived. He had been murdered by some Dark Wizard. Nobody knew which Dark Wizard, but it was probably Lord Drenator. Lord Drenator had been the most active dark wizard recently, being more open about his intentions than other Dark Wizards. He was trying to find the Deathly Hallows so he could conquer death and become all-powerful.

Jason found it hard to concentrate on Transfiguration.

He was trying to figure out how people could just go on living like that. He was trying to imaging what was going on in other people's brains. Katherine, his friend's mother, hadn't left home to find the dark lord and kill him. She just went on living, and mourning.

This made Jason think he wasn't such a bad person just because he wasn't going and doing something about it, he was just... going on living.

His best friend had not come to breakfast that morning.

Neither had Jason seen him in any of his classes.

Jason wondered if Hogwarts had a school psychologist. He hoped that was where Randy was now. Either that, or at home with his mother.

"Switching spells are very complex. With normal transfigurations, you must visualize two different things in your mind; the original object and the finished project. But with a Switching Spell, you must visualize four things. You must be able to see clearly in your mind both objects in their original states, and at the same time imagine what you want them to look like when you are finished.

"However, unlike free transfiguration, switching spells have a simple incantation and wand movement. We would teach this in the first year if first years had the raw intellectual capability to visualize four thing at the same time while still doing basic wand movements. Even though you are in your fourth year, you will still not be able to have any distractions in your mind, as you must concentrate the whole of your brain on the task. Vimentum!"

The leaves of the beautiful, unknown blue flower disappeared, leaving it bare and a little sad-looking. The cactus now had about seven big green leaves attached to various sides. It looked like it should have one of those little pink cactus flowers right on the top.

Madam Posedrey handed out two pens to each student, one red with a blue cap and the other blue with a red cap. We were to stand them upright on our desks, caps up, and attempt to put the right cap on the right pen.

About a minute later, as everyone was done preparing themselves, cries of "Vimentum!" filled the air as the other students attempted unsuccessfully to trade caps. Nithod, the boy in front of Jason, turned his head swiftly from side to side to see if anyone was watching. He grabbed the pens and took the lids off. He switched the lids. Then he put his hands in his lap and started whistling, as if that made it less obvious he was cheating.

Jason sighed and brought his wand out to point at the pens. His mouth said, "Vimentum." Nothing happened.

Jason tried not to think about death. But trying not to think about it didn't help. It stabbed at him as he tried to focus on a blue pen and red pen with the correct caps on at the same time as concentrating on what they looked like right now.

When he tried to cast the spell again, he just received a headache.

Now that he thought about it, not only should George be in a psychologist's office, so should Jason. When the Headmaster had announced it last night, he had said that anyone who felt like they needed someone to help them, they should tell him immediately.

Jason remembered how George's face had looked as they found out what had happened.

Jason had tried to comfort him, but George didn't respond with anything very reassuring. "Leave me alone" wasn't a very satisfactory response. Jason hoped that if George suffered permanent damage from finding out his dad had died, there was some sort of magical way of fixing that. Hell, Obliviation could probably fix him up. Or maybe a False Memory charm so he would think his parents were divorced or something.

Then Jason stopped.

Bloody hell.

He had spent so much time thinking about the effects on George that he didn't stop to consider what would happen to...

George's wife.

George's mother was almost definitely scarred for life, and she was a grown adult. If she didn't want to be Obliviated, the Department of Magical Psychology wouldn't object.

Jason was hoping with all he had that the proper magical authorities were dealing with this. Surely at least someone else would be able to duplicate his train of thought...

Then Jason became vaguely aware that he was being watched.

He focused his eyes again. Madam Posedray was looking right at him.

Crap.

Jason received a T for that day in just about all of his subjects.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A/N: Don't be shy! If you can find anything at all to comment on, post a review of the chapter! By the way, the social sciences in this chapter probably have a real theory name and everything, but if they do I haven't bothered to look them up.

Great Hall; Friday. November 17, 1997; 5:00 PM

Plates of food appeared in front of Jason. The plate directly in front of him was huge. It had mashed potatoes (with blue spots). A huge portion of roast beef sat next to it, and a little cup with gravy in it was on the other side of the potatoes. Some purple beans his mom had made for him many times were by the cup. And a little slab of pink unknown sat next to that.

In Jason's experience, Hogwarts almost never served food that was in any way bad. So he dug into the pink slab before anything else. To his surprise, the weird pink think tasted exactly like tapioca pudding with a hint of chocolate. It could have been a dessert. But Jason hardly noticed. He was still deep in thought about his friend's mother.

When he had met her, she had seemed like a nice lady. She had been content. George had three brothers and two sisters. Of of the sisters was in her sixth year. The other and one of her brothers had already graduated. Another brother was in his first year, and the last was only seven years old.

George and Jason were both in their fourth year. Their teachers had already begun using the OWL grading scheme (O's, E's and such). They had heaped tons of homework on them and still been able to say "Have a good day!" while smiling sincerely. Jason hadn't realized how much work Hogwarts could be. In his first three years, his teachers had seemed a lot nicer and given him what now seemed like basically no homework.

Jason stuck his fork into the roast beef.

George had been of this opinion as well. They had complained to each other and had a good time laughing at that. Just a few days later, his world had changed. The teachers were still capable of smiling. But Jason felt like he would never smile again.

He had read, somewhere, that people usually had a set happiness point. Most of the time, your happiness could go down and up, but always quickly regain its original position. People got into car accidents, and a few hours later they could laugh and joke about the accident.

Unless they were depressed. Depression wasn't too common, but in many cases it would lead to suicide. People's lives could be irretrievably damaged. They would never be the same again. George was young. Fourteen years old is still young enough to be able to survive a huge trauma. His mind was still young, still active. He would get better after his dad died.

But George's mother was at least 35. She would be permanently affected. When she got a new husband, every time sheet looked at him she would have that memory, pushing at her mind. She would see Frederick every time she looked at George who looked very much like his father.

He chewed the last bite of roast beef and swallowed. You probably could have substituted it for toothpaste and he wouldn't have noticed.

Last night, the Headmaster had announced the death. Headmaster Toppett didn't believe in withholding things from children. He wanted them to know things. (There was a sex ed class in your first year.) He had told all the details as reported by the Aurors who investigated the scene. He told them that Katherine, Frederick's wife, had seen Frederick teleport home. He had fallen to the floor, dead. It was obvious he had been struck by a killing curse. She had quickly contacted the Aurors. They cast a spell that had been recently invented. It could be cast within ten minutes of someone's death and show the caster the last ten seconds before the point that they died.

Just enough time to show that he had been killed by an unknown Dark Wizard in a Muggle town called Venefico. The Aurors had immediately used Portus straight to the scene and found that the Dark Wizard had killed Frederick because he had entered a certain house. When Frederick exited the house, he had found the wizard right outside the door. Frederick had ran until the Dark Wizard cast a ward to temporarily prevent movement. The Dark Wizard had killed Frederick within thirty seconds while Frederick tried to use a map to teleport home. He had succeeded, making it easier for the Aurors to rule out some Dark Wizards as suspects.

But in the eyes of Magical Britain, it didn't matter who killed him. In fact, to the Wizengamot, it didn't matter that he died at all. He was an unimportant man. Some of Wizengamot would pretend to be sad when they heard the news. They probably actually thought that they were sad, thinking "one more death" was sad, was it not?

Frederick didn't matter to them as a person. But his death had impacted lives. Katherine was scarred for life from his death. Information could have no effect on one person, but change somebody else's life.

Jason stared at his plate.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn't any better than the Wizengamot. There had been many deaths before Frederick. Not a single one of them had actually taken hold of him. Until something happened that personally impacted him.

Humans were so selfish.

Jason was Muggleborn. He used words like "humankind" instead of "wizardkind". He knew more math and science than the average Hogwarts student. He grew up with Rumplestiltskin, not Babbity Rabbity. His parents were greengrocers and so he had a sense of agriculture. But they were poor. To the other kids in his classes at school, he wasn't worth a damn. Then he had received his acceptance letter into Hogwarts and for the first time, he felt like he belonged. He was a wizard, he was magical; he was special.

When he went to Hogwarts, he wasn't really worth much to the other students, but at least he wasn't the poor kid who was pushed over into the dust anymore. He was respected. He was sorted into Ravenclaw, which made him feel smart. He was the type; the rest of the students at his table also had thoughtful looks on their faces, as they stared at the little blue specks on the mashed potatoes...

Somewhere on the other side of the room, someone clapped loudly once.

Jason wondered why humans were so selfish. Sure, people sacrificed themselves to save others. Sure, people cared for their family. And sure, soldiers saved people they had no connection to whatsoever. But they had to be in a certain mode of thinking. Human subconsciousness had two main categories, Friend and Foreigner. Back in prehistoric times, that Foreigner class meant "kill". They probably classified prey into Foreigner. But then human society evolved. There were villages and towns. Foreigner meant be wary.

When you are in the army for a while, your senses change. The people in the fighter ships that are trying to kill you are Foreign, and random citizens are Friendly class and must be protected. That just about explained the soldier throwing himself on the bomb to save the innocent old lady.

Jason's Friend class included most of the people in Hogwarts and the adults he trusted. His Foreigner class included just about anybody he didn't know. The other people who had been killed by dark wizards recently (there were many) were classified to him as Foreigner and didn't matter. When he read about them in the Daily Prophet that George received everyday, the reaction they made was " more human death. That's sad." Not, in particular, "Why the hell is nobody doing anything about this? There are Dark Wizards everywhere and the Ministry hasn't lifted more than a thumb in protest!"

The person clapped again. Heads were turning in the direction of the Head Table.

But when Frederick died, Jason's brain classified this as a PC death. His brain reacted and actually began questioning his thought process on that kind of thing.

How many deaths had there been? Quite a few. There had been four in the last week. This had been going on for about three years ago, when a large number of Dark Wizards came into the view of the Wizarding world. That was two hundred and ten deaths, assuming some sort of consistency rate. Frederick's death had impacted about four students, his wife, maybe some of his work partners, his parents, siblings, teachers, colleagues,... Each death probably impacted about twenty five people. That was fifty thousand people affected in three years... in Britain.

Fifty thousand people. Funny, when you heard "four deaths a week" you didn't comprehend the magnitude of the statement until you actually did a real calculation.

For the first time, Jason began wondering why there were so many Dark Wizards all of a sudden becoming active.

An extremely loud clap resonated around the Great Hall.

All conversation stopped.

Jason turned to look at the Head Table.

Headmaster Toppett was standing at the podium, a deadly serious look on his face.

His throat cleared.

"I have some sad news."

A huge wave of déjà vu hit him. This was exactly what had happened yesterday night, when his life had changed.

"There has been a large amount of deaths today. Three Aurors have been found dead in their beds just this morning."

A large intake of breath.

"These were the Aurors team that investigated Mr. Frederick Sherlett's death yesterday.

"One Auror, by the name of Arthur Drumpler was the only Auror brave enough to investigate this death. All three of them have been Memory charmed of different consecutive times between one o'clock and two.

"Arthur Drumpler was found dead a few hours ago."

Shock burst through the students in waves.

"Nobody has investigated his death, but it is clear that some Dark Wizard has been trying his best to keep wizards from having no knowledge of the house or even the whole neighborhood Mr. Sherlett was investigating right before his death.

"The Wizengamot has done fixed that, because this wizard is so determined, we should not tempt fate by going there and investigating. It is now illegal to go to that Juggle town.

"Thank you for listening and I hope you can continue with your lives. Remember, if you feel like you need help, come to Professor Geriatrix or myself immediately."

Jason's mind was frozen.

Damn it.

Just as he was able to think normally again...

Damn, damn, DAMN!

His world, perfectly built with illusions of childhood crumbled apart.

If he had any doubt that he was permanently affected, it had disappeared. His mind was blown. This was that last straw. The very last straw.

He was not safe.

He had never been safe.

What had happened to his world? A day ago, he was happily joking with George, blissfully unaware of what was going to happen to him. He had led a perfectly innocent and careless life until now.

To think, a week ago he was complaining about homework.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A/N: There is going to be quite a lot of death in this series. Not that I like death, I just find it easy to write about right after my best friend died.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Jason's eyes were closed. He was lying down. His Quieter was turned up as far as it could go. The alarm clock was on, making soft ticking noises.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick.

Jason was trying his absolute hardest to go to sleep. He had his eyes shut tight and all his covers on but no robes or pajamas on, so he was as warm and comfortable as possible. He was trying, trying as hard as he could not to think about.

Damn it. His thoughts just kept going, nothing stopping them. He decided that he truly couldn't go to sleep.

He pulled off the top covers and sat up. He reached over to his bedside shelf/table thing and grabbed his wand. He eased back into his covers, tried to make his brain relax as much as possible so it would ease into sleep a lot easier.

"Somnium."

His tense body rested itself, and as snore escaped him.

All throughout Hogwarts, student and teachers alike had similar troubles going to sleep.

Jason stepped through the doors that some giggling girl was holding for him. He nodded to her as a little thanks and walked out onto the grounds. The Hogwarts grounds were beautiful. There were lots of trees, flowers, fields, flat grassy lands, hills, rolling slopes, even snow-covered hills. The lake was beautiful, and the rising sun reflected off the surface. And there were bushes. Lots of bushes. And there were quite a lot of people in the bushes. Some of them, you could tell they were just talking or playing around in the bushes. But others were kissing, holding hands, and doing... other things. He could clearly see one guy's bare back sticking over the bushes. He decided he didn't want to investigate further.

But if you went out far enough, you began to see less and less people. People who wanted to be by themselves or be with someone else with no one around went out further on the grounds. Conversations grew more private, and people that didn't want other people to see their... acts usually went further out.

Jason just wanted to be by himself. They had canceled the morning classes. There were lots of people crying, and some students had gone home to be with their families.

People were calling this period of time the Dark Ages II. It was starting look look like the original Dark Ages, and that wasn't good from a wizard perspective. Back then, there were Dark Wizards everywhere, wreaking havoc. Eventually, someone named Firekin Peverell found a spell that banished the Dark Arts for his lifetime. Most of the Dark Wizards died or faded back into the wizarding world, but three Dark Wizards went and tracked down Firekin Peverell to his home and killed him. The trio of Dark Wizards, known as the Tyrannical Trio, basically took over the world. They killed all other Dark Wizards. Their reign lasted about a hundred years until Firekin Peverell's only son killed two of them. He got away. The last one only lasted three or four years before he got sick with a Plague that a Dark Wizard who had lived in secret had created. Since then, not many Dark Wizards had been powerful enough to be an actual threat to wizardkind.

Until now.

Currently, there were about thirteen Dark Wizards who were powerful and enough to have an effect on the wizard population. Nobody knew why. Well, actually, everybody knew exactly why. They just all believed completely different things. One believed that an ancient artefact, the Sorting Hat's evil twin, had called in the Spirits of Chaos from the eternal void and they had inhabited the souls of babies who grew up to have strange affinities for and expertise in the Dark Arts. Others thought that wizards were growing weak, and that many wizards had taken it upon themselves to purify the Wizarding population of Muggleborns (who had always been favorite targets of Dark Wizards) and other scum, like Squibs.

Jason was a Muggleborn. He had gone through the first ten years of his life as a perfectly ordinary kid in a perfectly ordinary school. He had heard tales of accidental magic from almost all the kids he would consider his friends. He had never, as far as he could remember, accidentally used magic. Nothing. He had a little sister. She also showed no signs of being magical. His parents were perfectly ordinary and so were his ancestors, as far back as he felt like checking. There hadn't been any wizards or witches in his family.

He kept on thinking that there had been a mistake and that one day his magic would be taken away from him. He knew that he was probably just fantasizing but it had stayed in the back of his mind, "what if I'm not really special" and all that. He could keep from wondering, "What if this time I'm right and it was a mistake?"

Just being silly. He was just being silly.

He could see the forbidden Forest now. The trees were thicker there and you could see a faint blue shimmering bubble around a huge section of the grounds. He had heard that the blue bubble didn't actually stop anybody from going in; that it just marked that woods as Forbidden. Instead of keeping you out, it kept monstrosities in. He had heard that there were Acromantulas and werewolves and Entbrats in there. But this was hopefully just a rumor. If someone was going to put a bunch of dangerous creatures in a cage, why the hell would they put it in the middle of a school's grounds? At least they should put some sort of huge protective magical wall around it, or make it invisible or something.

Why would the Four Founders of Hogwarts do something like that?

No, Jason was sure the rumors were false.

Penelope Bluegrass looked down at the lake.

From the top of Slytherin Tower, the view of the lake was amazing. You could see the shining sun over the deep blue lake, with swampy edges and small ripples as students gathered on one side, skipping stones (with magical Flying Pebbles) and chatting. A flock of girls gathered around someone who seemed to be struggling with someone or something. There were a few clouds on the edges of the sky, like a god had reached out and pushed the clouds away just for this beautiful mental picture she was taking.

Penelope had a photographic memory. She remembered everything since she was seven, and could instantly replay every single thing she had seen. Once she has stolen a glance at some papers her father had been filling out. She had seen a really cool spell.

A few months ago, when she had turned fifteen years old, she had tried casting the spell. A dark cloud of thick, black fog appeared and floated around. She didn't know what the spell did or how to control it. She tried to Finite the spell but failed completely. Finally, she touched it. It had vanished promptly with a little whooshing sound. She hoped that meant it was gone forever. She had tried to forget about the incident, but having a perfect memory, she couldn't come close.

When she had heard about the deaths, she had broken down and cried. Death wasn't something that was part of her life and she had no idea how to handle it. Her mind decided on Panic Mode. She had cried that whole night. Then, feeling great, she had got up in the morning and came here. She had hoped she would get distracted by the view. And she had, in a way, it had refreshed her thoughts once more.

(She felt something even then; a small chill ran down her back and she shivered as if cold)

The view was great. Each little tree you could pick out and you could see how they blended together and created a huge shape, like a writhing serpent or a huge, black dragon-

(Fleeting disorientation)

A scream escaped her. She could feel the thing swoop down her throat and snatch something, a part of her being, out of her mind and leave something else, something slick and nasty in its place. Then it stayed, searching her very soul and she fell to the floor, writhing. It was like she had been hit by a curse, this was unnatural, what did she do to have this done to her-

In one giant swoop, the thing, or things, left her and fled away, far away, back where it or they had come from.

She exhaled.


	5. Chapters 4 and 5

Chapter 4  
>AN: The first person to review on this story gets to choose what happens in Chapter 6 (as long as its fairly reasonable)! I lumped 4 and 5 because, with the prologue and all, the chapters were numbered weirdly.  
>Hogwarts Library; Saturday, November 18, 1997; 1:37 PM<br>"All students, please report to your dormitories. All students, please report to your dormitories."  
>Professor Posedrey's voice rang out clearly throughout the halls of Hogwarts. Students everywhere were looking up from their studies and paused as their brains processed the message and what it implied. Somebody screamed and Jason could hear running. The students around him who had been studying dropped their books and walked quickly out of the door of the library, most of them heading for the Ravenclaw dorm.<br>Jason sighed. His brain was tired of dealing with huge, impactful information. The announcement meant nothing to him. He was too tired even to think, "What the hell is going on?" His brain was on rest mode and intended to stay in rest mode.  
>He quietly and slowly gathered his things into the Bag of Holding that George had got him for his birthday last year (it had turned out to be incredibly useful). He had received the type of bag that didn't look good or have many features, but had the biggest interior out of most affordable Bags of Holding. He could easily fit his little sister in there (don't worry; he hasn't tried). It was brown and was ugly and looked very old-fashioned, but it served well.<br>He got up, stretched, and began walking towards his dorm. He didn't go faster than his normal pace, nor did he go slower. He was just walking normally to the dorm.  
>As he approached Professor Posedrey's office, he heard a noise, like someone talking to someone else. He reached it and stopped, leaning towards the door. He could hear two people talking. He wondered if they knew anything about why everybody was to evacuate to their dorms. He put his ear right next to the door and heard-<p>

(You didn't think I was THAT clichéd, did you?)  
>He heard Professor Stamen, the Herbology teacher, singing to a plastic plant.<br>(A/N: No, I'm not including the lyrics.)  
>Jason walked on.<p>

* * *

><p>Ravenclaw Tower; November 18, 1997; 1:54 PM<br>The door asked Jason,  
>"Everybody will meet me someday. I am cold, unforgiving, and completely unfair. I break people, and some people always are searching for me. What am I?"<br>"Death."  
>"Uhh... The answer was supposed to be Love, but I suppose that could count... How about another one."<br>"Quickly."  
>"What is the purpose of life?"<br>"I can think of three. To kill other living beings, to have sex with other living beings, and to cease to exist as a living being, or to die."  
>"I was hoping for 42, but I'll accept your answer anyway."<br>The door creaked open.  
>The main room was almost empty. There were a few students huddled up in armchairs, reading and looking a little puffy-eyed. The fire was burning a lot lower than usual. The clean blue carpet seemed to be a sad, depressed blue. The bookshelves looked almost unused.<br>Jason hoped that this was all his imagination, and that the main room didn't actually change its looks based on the basic mood of the group. That would be a little silly.  
>He headed up to the room the shared with ten other boys. They lumped the 3rd and 4th year boys into one huge room. The room was huge though, with lots of bookshelves and tables and desks. The beds were fairly big and there was even an unused bunk bed in the corner. Everything was cozy and built for Ravenclaw characteristics.<br>Most of these boys were in their beds, staring at the ceiling or reading books. Jason looked over at George's bed and was surprised to find George in his bed and fast asleep.  
>George looked a little uneasy. He looked very different when he was asleep. Like a baby version of himself. But he looked like a baby screwing his eyes up, about to bawl. Or just plain unrest. But something made him look so different from two days ago. George had been through so much. Jason was surprised he had recovered enough to be brought back to school.<br>George was obviously having a nightmare.  
>Jason's eyes stung. He hadn't cried once over the last few days. He had just felt anger, regret, and quite a bit of frustration and confusion.<br>His eyes watered. He sat down on his bed. Tears ran down his cheeks.  
>How bad was the world? Or how bad was God, if he existed? Whoever created this world must have been twisted. Whoever designed a world that involved torturing this fourteen-year-old ought to be hung. Jason felt angry again. Whoever did this to George would pay.<br>And then Jason stopped. He let his brain shut down for a moment. He lay back. He closed his eyes for a moment.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5<br>Jason's Mind; November 18, 1997, 9:00 PM  
>Jason was in a field of blue grass.<br>The hot sun glared right in his eyes. He tried to shield them, but the light when directly into his eyes, blinding him. He stumbled. He curled up into the fetal position.  
>Nausea overwhelmed him. It triggered his gag reflex. He was retching.<br>His eyes shut tight and white shapes swirled around. He saw George's sleeping face among the white swirls. He heard the giggles of the girl who had held the door open for him when he had had gone outside. He saw a line, inside a circle, inside a triangle. He heard a high, cold, penetrating voice say "Avada Kedavra" while laughing. A flash of bright green light filled his vision.  
>A piercing scream escaped his lips. He felt himself fall backwards, but he didn't hit the floor, he just kept falling and falling...<br>His eyes were shut tight. He opened them. He was falling through space. He could see the stars. They weren't moving; they were too large and far away to change positions in his sight as he fell down. But he had stopped falling. He was floating. He sat up.  
>He was still in his bed. The curtains were closed. His clock said that it was 11:57. The window over his bed looked out to the stars...<br>He gazed out at the stars. They made him feel like a speck, floating through space. So insignificant. He was nothing. These stars were giant balls of fire zooming around in space. He was one small life form looking out at these huge things that he could see easily.  
>He was able to see the stars easily. But if the stars had eyes, they wouldn't be able to see him. They could see his planet. But even his planet would look like just another white insignificant speck in the middle of infinity. His planet didn't even twinkle mysteriously like the stars; it was a white speck amongst millions of specks against a black canvas.<br>He could believe anything, looking into space. He could believe things like the sentence "everything is going to be all right", or "the world will end tomorrow". He could even believe ridiculous things like "Expelliarmus is more powerful than Avada Kedavra if you have twin wands", or " there is another version of the Patrons charm".  
>He could even believe, looking out into infinity, that lives didn't have to be lost. That there was a way to prevent death, a way to resurrect people. A way to fix everything that was wrong with the world.<br>But, looking away from the stars back at the clock which showed 12:00, the clock that displayed the Time which controlled everything all humans did, that prevented him from going back and somehow saving George's father, he knew that this couldn't be. Everything wasn't going to be okay. You couldn't change the basic and fundamental parts of the world, the parts that made the world work.  
>He got dressed, and opened his curtain. He took a step towards the door, because he wanted to go down to the common room and find out what was happening.<br>He glanced towards George's bed.  
>He stopped.<br>Turned around.  
>The floor was red by his bed.<br>He opened the curtains.  
>George's body was unconscious. He looked like he had been stabbed. Red was everywhere. Blood.<br>The scream in his dream was real.  
>He ran down the stairs, screaming. He tripped and fell down the stairs. He landed on the floor. He was tired, woozy, terrified, and scared out of his mind.<br>He felt hands lifting his body up, off the floor, and onto a couch. He heard someone saying something,probably to him, as footsteps rushed up the stairs to the bedroom.  
>Jason slipped into unconsciousness.<p> 


End file.
